He's a Vamp
by Beechwood0708
Summary: Douglas has computer issues, but the enitre IT department seem to have vanished, along with anyone he sends down to find them. Affectionate mashup with Dracula.


A/N- This has been requested by two people. First, the person on an anonymous meme who gave me the idea in the first place, and will probably never actually see it. To be fair, I did keep my promise to write it "even if it took several years". As it was, it only took two. Secondly, by Death And Kitties, who got me to get on and actually write the thing. Thank you!

This reminded me how much I really need to re-read Dracula. Watching all the movies doesn't count. I've tried to mimic the epistolary form from the novel, but I'm not sure how well I've done that since I wasn't able to get hold of a copy for reference, because the libraries round here are a bit crap. It's not hugely important though, really.

Title is crap, but I couldn't think of anything better.

Anyway, hope you enjoy.

He's a Vamp

The following is a transcription of several audio files discovered during an investigation into the contents of the iPhone device belonging to Mr Douglas Reynholm, for use as evidence in a trial resulting from inconsistencies in the company pension scheme. After consideration of this evidence, Mr Reynholm has been advised that his best option may be to plead insanity.

Douglas Reynholm's journal, recorded via the iPhone voice recorder function:

_Recording started Jan. 8__th__ 2008, 18:04_:

_(A period of silence, lasting under a minute, with general background noise, punctuated by the impacts of the recording device being repeatedly picked up and dropped.)_

Douglas Reynholm: Is it working?

Stephanie Pilcher: Yes- see, it says 'recording'.

D. Reynholm: Ah yes. And how to I get it to stop?

S. Pilcher: You press here, on the little square.

D. Reynholm: And how do I start it again?

S. Pilcher: Press this one- the triangle. And the two lines to pause.

D. Reynholm: Ahh, I see! Just like on the Blu-Ray player!

S. Pilcher: Exactly.

D. Reynholm: I bought it a fortnight ago, the Blu-Ray- it's not even on the market yer. Fantastic quality. I tell you, Stephanie, when I first turned the thing on, I almost jizzed in my pants right there. Honestly, I almost jizzed. Even before the sexy nurse and the German doctor started rutting on the examination table. Cock-stiffeningly superb, honestly. I didn't think I had a chance of affording one until I realised I could make some very unusual but very lucrative offshore investments in, erm… Twiglets.

S. Pilcher: Twiglets?

D. Reynholm: … Yes…

S. Pilcher: I didn't realise there was such a fertile market in Twiglets.

D. Reynholm: No, well… most of the time… there isn't.

S. Pilcher: I see.

D. Reynholm: Ah, yes, good. Well, I think I'm all hunky dory here, so I will see you tomorrow. Ciao then goodbye go away!

S. Pilcher: Bye Mr Reynholm.

D. Reynholm: Get out!

_(Footsteps are heard, followed by the sound of a door opening and closing.)_

D. Reynholm: This is the private journal of me, Douglas Reynholm, January the… eighth, 6:10pm. Ahem. Today has been entirely and completely utterly normal. Nothing unusual has happened regarding the banking arrangements of my company. Nothing unusual has happened that may affect the pension security of my employees. Nothing unusual has happened at all. In fact, nothing at all has happened today. I haven't seen anyone or done anything. I've been sitting here in my office, waiting and ready in case anyone should come in, and no one has. Certainly not to talk about the employee pension schemes. I have seen no one at all today, and I have seen them even less about that.

The only thing that has happened today is that I have decided to begin keeping a journal, audio-recorded, obviously, because I can't be arsed to write. This will reassure any listeners that everything I do, especially the things I do with regards to the financial security of my company and its employees, is completely, boringly normal. That way, all of my alibis will be believed. Not that I have any alibis. Or that there will be any listeners.

This journal is entirely and completely utterly normal. I have no ulterior motives for recording it whatsoever.

_

* * *

_

Recording started Jan 14

_th__, 17:58_:

D. Reynholm: January fourteenth, 5:58pm. Another completely normal day, where I did not meet with anyone to discuss the offshore banking of employee pension funds. I did meet with someone, but it was not about that. It was about… Twiglets.

* * *

_Recording started Jan 16__th__, 10:11_:

_(A loud, shrill beeping noise can be heard throughout the recording, occurring roughly every five seconds.)_

D. Reynholm: DISASTEEEEEEEER! My laptop has fallen victim to a most unfortunate problem. It keeps making this bloody beeping- it's making my fillings stand on edge! This had better stop soon! It had better stop soon! There are some very important files on this computer. They're not about pensions!

_10:13_:

_(The beeping continues throughout this recording, occurring roughly every three seconds.)_

D. Reynholm: Aaaaaargh, God! It's doing it faster!

_10:16_:

_(The beeping continues, now occurring every two seconds.)_

D. Reynholm: Sweet banana-coated Christ, it's shrivelling up my balls!

_10:21_:

D. Reynholm: Well, it seems to have stopped. But my laptop screen is black, I believe it has turned itself off, and _(the repeated pressing of a button can be heard behind Mr Reynholm's speech)_ it will not turn back on, no matter how often or how _hard_ I press the button. Am going to call for IT- they should be able to sort out this mess so I can go back to checking how completely normal the pension funds are.

_11:05_:

D. Reynholm: I've called IT at least nine times, and no answer. Bored now. Will get the PA to do it.

_13:48_:

D. Reynholm: January fourteenth, 1:48pm. I had a very very _very_ satisfying lunch today. There's a new restaurant just opened, about a £30 taxi ride away, that sells deep-fried caviar. Seriously! Apparently they'll deep-fry anything, but caviar is a speciality, and it's very, very good. I asked the chef about these deep-fried Mars bars I've been hearing so much about, but he said that such a thing is 'uncouth', and he said he'd do me some deep-fried profiteroles instead. Which, correct me if I'm wrong, sounds a bit like it defeats the point of profiteroles, but I suppose he knows what he's talking about. I'd probably prefer to just bring a few packets of Ferrero Rocher, personally, but if a professional chef offers me deep-fried profiteroles, so help me God I will eat deep-fried profiteroles! But either way, that was one hell of a plateful of deep-fried caviar, and I know where I'll be eating all this week! And to think that I'd never have been able to afford all this if not for my recent unusual investments in… Twiglets.

Also, IT still haven't answered my call. Stephanie says she's been calling right through her lunch break. This isn't like them. I suppose I'd better do something about it. There's a man hanging around outside who doesn't look like he has much to do. In fact, I don't even think he even works here. So he should be glad I'm giving him a chance to work for me.

Completely unrelated, but speaking of my Stephanie, my PA- I think her rack has gotten bigger. Now, she could just be wearing lower-cut tops or a Wonderbra, but they actually look bigger all round. I'd better keep an eye on this. A very close eye. But not too close. I don't want a repeat of _that_ incident.

_17:34_:

D. Reynholm: That man I sent down to IT never came back. Bastard! Tomorrow, I'll get one of my own employees to do it.

_

* * *

_

Recording started Jan 17

_th__, 10:26_:

D. Reynholm: Still no response from that man I sent down to IT. I thought he might at least have had the goodwill to spend the entire night locked inside the building with the IT department sorting out my problem, but no, it seems he just disappeared. People have no sense of common decency. So I've sent down someone from human resources, who was almost as reluctant as the other one- _(Reynholm speaks in an exaggerated, high-pitched weedy voice)_ he's all "Why are you coming here to me to ask me to do this?" so I told him, you know, "You're human resources, so I'm using you as a resource."

We argued for a while, but he did it. That tends to happen when you're in control of someone's… Twiglets.

Anyway, I've told him to let me know before noon what the IT department say and when they'll be coming round. Which should be soon, if they want to keep their jobs.

_12:14_:

D. Reynholm: The man from human resources should be back by now. It's been well over an hour since he left- surely it doesn't take this long to tell IT what's wrong and bring them up here. They're usually very punctual- they know what tends to happen when people piss me off. There's only so much you can do in an office without online poker. I just discovered it a few weeks ago, and it's possibly the best thing I've ever done! And just before the laptop broke I'd put in six hundred pounds worth of… Twiglets. I'm hoping to double it though. Or even triple it. The aim of the game, I believe, is to discover which of the other players have the same cards as you, by asking them, for example, if they have any sevens, and if they have it, they have to give it to you and you get to poke them in the face. Sort of like Fish, but with poking in the face. Though that said, I am a little suspicious- I'm not sure how you poke someone over the internet. Maybe you have to know them on Friendface. Or maybe you can just poke their face on the screen and it counts. Ooh, maybe they've invented a thing that lets you touch something on a screen and actually feel it, so they'd feel it when you poke the screen! I have to look into this invention! It would make cyber-sex _so _much less pointless!

_(An impact is heard as the device is dropped, followed by the static of the intercom.)_

D. Reynholm: Stephanie, look into that invention that lets you touch things on a computer screen and actually feel it. Has it been invented yet?

_(Ms Pilcher's voice is distorted by the intercom._)

S. Pilcher: Not yet, Mr Reynholm.

D. Reynholm: Bollocks!

_14:22_:

D. Reynholm: He's still not here. I swear I said before noon. Bastard, he's probably bitching about me with them. Bloody IT.

_16:37_:

D. Reynholm: Where in the flaming bowels is that man?

_17:42_:

D. Reynholm: You know what, fuck this, I'm going home. That man is _fired_!

* * *

_Recording started Jan 18__th__, 09:50_:

D. Reynholm: Than man never did come back. Went down to human resources this morning to ask about him, and apparently he never came back there yesterday either, and he isn't in this morning. This is getting a little bit odd. So, fuck it. I am buying another laptop. Borrowed Stephanie's computer to order one. The first one that comes up. It's not cheap, but that's no problem. What else are all those… Twiglets… going to pay for anyway? About time! Fuck you, IT!

_

* * *

_

Recording started January 19

_th__, 10:24_:

D. Reynholm: Regarding Stephanie's rack; definitely bigger. Not bigger than the last time I noticed, but bigger than they were before that. I don't think she's even wearing a bra. They were all sort of sploshed out on top of this laptop, half falling out of her top and all full of cleavage and things. I swear, it almost made me need to change my pants. I'll be thinking about that all day now. God. Oh, and, in other news, the new laptop arrived.

_17:16_:

_(A regular, shrill beeping sound is heard.)_

D. Reynholm: I don't fucking believe it! This one's doing it as well now!

_17:19_:

_(The beeping noise continues.)_

D. Reynholm: IT are still not on the phone. Really, this is getting ridiculous. _Someone get me Dell! I need another computer!_

_

* * *

_

Recording started January 20

_th__, 13:34_:

D. Reynholm: January twentieth, about half past one. Since the man who probably didn't work for me, the man from human resources and, it would seem, the entire IT department seem to have vanished off the face of the earth, there's nothing left for it except to go down there myself. It shouldn't be too hard, after all, I've been down there plenty of times before. I bet I'll see them all with their little spanners, telling the sprites to go and do as they're told. They must have just not gotten any of my messages. Why else would anyone not come up to help me?

_(The sound muffles as Mr Reynholm presumably drops the device in his pocket, having forgotten to stop recording, but the door can still be heard to open and close. The sound quality from this point is slightly distorted, but still for the most part clear.)_

D. Reynholm: Oh, Stephanie, have you tried these deep fried profiteroles? They're actually quite good. You wouldn't believe you were eating anything that had air in it at all.

_(The sound of Ms Pilcher eating and gagging can be faintly heard.)_

S. Pilcher: That is probably the most disgusting thing I've ever eaten.

D. Reynholm: Then you don't know class. Goodbye Stephanie!

_(An extended period of silence lasting about fifteen minutes follows, broken by the general background noise of muffled conversations, footsteps, vending machines and lifts, and Mr Reynholm humming an unidentified tune, possibly the themetune of _Fraggle Rock_. After a while, the sound changes to a sudden, deep silence, as if there were no background noise whatsoever.)_

D. Reynholm: Hello? Anyone down here? (pause) IT?

_(The three voices which follow initially speak unusually slowly, somewhat huskily and sound slightly dazed. The possibility that the three had been taking relaxant or hallucinogenic drugs has been explored, but tests proved inconclusive. It is without doubt that their blood during and slightly after this period was vastly different from normal blood, and indeed seemed to contain several different blood types, yet traces of no known drugs were found, and urine tests proved negative.)_

Jennifer Barber: Who's up there?

D. Reynholm: It's me. It's Douglas. Your boss.

J. Barber: Oh for god's sake! As if I didn't have enough to worry about without _him_ coming down here.

Roy Trenneman: What are we worrying about now? I haven't had to go upstairs in two weeks. That makes this a pretty good two weeks.

J. Barber: The bit about being vampires might be the obvious thing.

R. Trenneman: Oh _right_! I keep forgetting we're doing that now.

J. Barber: Yes, well, you didn't get out much _before_ we were vampires, did you?

Maurice Moss: Besides which, Roy, it's your fault we all got turned into vampires in the first place.

R. Trenneman: How is it my fault?

M. Moss: You were the one who locked Richmond in his room with the vampire bat!

R. Trenneman: How was I to know that Richmond's pet vampire bat was actually a vampire? I mean, that's not a very common thing, is it? Most vampire bats- just bats. This one- actual vampire. How often does that happen?

M. Moss: It was flying around like a drunken pilot, hiding in the shadows and trying to bite people's necks!

R. Trenneman: I thought it just had rabies or something!

M. Moss: And that's reason to lock Richmond in with it, is it? What if he had got rabies, and then gotten out and given us all rabies? We'd all have rabies, Roy! We'd all have rabies. Except we don't have rabies, we're vampires.

D. Reynholm: I've been having-

R. Trenneman: Is anyone else hungry?

J. Barber: I could eat something, yeah?

_(Brief pause.)_

D. Reynholm: … What are you all looking at me like that for?

M. Moss: There must be a lot of blood in there.

R. Trenneman: Looks like thick blood.

M. Moss: Hot blood.

R. Trenneman: Hang on, hang on a sec… _(pause.)_

J. Barber: What is it?

R. Trenneman: Sucking the blood out of a man… is that… just a little bit gay?

M. Moss: No.

J. Barber: Roy, why was this not an issue with the two other men you've already bitten?

R. Trenneman: It's only just occurred to me.

J. Barber: That's a bit of a delayed reaction.

R. Trenneman: Really, does it? I mean, it's not far off a hickey, is it? And then the fact that you're putting a bit of another man in your mouth, sucking out one of his bodily fluids and swallowing it. That is just a bit gay.

J. Barber: Roy, I'm biting him, and the last thing I want to do is have sex with him.

R. Trenneman: I suppose so.

M. Moss: Can we get on with it? I'm hungry!

J. Barber: Right, right, who's getting first bite?

R. Trenneman: You had the last one. And Moss had first dibs on the one before that.

J. Barber: You're very eager all of a sudden.

R. Trenneman: I'm hungry!

J. Barber: Is that all it is?  
R. Trenneman: You just said it doesn't make you gay!

M. Moss: Biting men doesn't make you gay but being a bit gay might make you want to bite a man.

R. Trenneman: You bit the first one first! You bit _me_!

M. Moss: What can I say, Roy? I was really, really hungry.

R. Trenneman: Well, so am I! Can we just bite Douglas and get on with it?

J. Barber: Is this you admitting you're a little bit gay?

_(Pause.)_

R. Trenneman: Being a vampire changes the way you see people. In the end, even if you do want to sleep with them, they're food.

J. Barber: True… And if you definitely don't want to sleep with them, they literally are just food.

M. Moss: I think we're all thinking that right now.

D. Reynholm: No, really, what am I-

_(An odd hissing noise is heard coming from one of the IT department, presumably Mr Trenneman, who seems from the volume of his voice to be coming closer.)_

D. Reynholm: Hang on, hang on! I only came down here because I've been having a problem with my computer and-

M. Moss: What's it doing?

D. Reynholm: It sort of keeps making this really loud beep beep noise. _(It should be known that Mr Reynholm's impression of the sound is uncannily accurate.)_ I even went as far as to buy a new laptop, and they've both started doing it within a few hours. I just can't think what's wrong with it.

_(Pause.)_

M. Moss: That's the noise it makes when the battery's running out.

D. Reynholm: … Oh.

M. Moss: Plug it in and that'll stop.

D. Reynholm: I see.

R. Trenneman: That is one of the most stupid things I've ever heard. I'm doing the world a favour.

_(The hissing, almost certainly Mr Trenneman, is heard again, this time from a much closer proximity. The hiss is suddenly cut off by the slamming of a heavy door. The voice which follows was initially unidentifiable, as all other Reynholm Industries staff were accounted for, until the members of the IT department recovered enough to name him as Richmond Avenal. This was incredibly surprising, as Mr Avenal is not listed on the Reynholm Industries payroll, but is listed on the Missing Persons Register, has not been seen in over four years and is widely believed by both family and former friends and colleagues to be dead. Authorities were unable to locate him after this event, and his present whereabouts are unknown.)_

Richmond Avenal: Oh, hello. What's going on in here?

D. Reynholm: Who in Satan's hairy left ball are you?

R. Avenal: I've seen you before, haven't I?

_(Mr Avenal's voice now seems louder, as though he is considerably closer to the recording device than before, though no footsteps are audible on the recording.)_

R. Avenal: No, no I haven't seen you… but I recognise you…

_(There is a loud sniff, presumably from Mr Avenal.)_

R. Avenal: Oh, I see. You're _his_ son.

_(Another loud sniff.)_

R. Avenal: And hers. Oh dear, I'm sure his wife didn't see that one coming. _(Pause.)_ But yes, _his_ son. You're _(another sniff)_ very alike.

_(Mr Moss and Ms Barber both speak in low voices; it is possible that, despite their conversation being picked up by the recording device, Mr Reynholm and Mr Avenal did not hear it.)_

M. Moss: They don't look anything like each other.

J. Barber: Douglas doesn't even look young enough to be Denholm's son.

M. Moss: And he doesn't smell like a person. All I can smell within a four-foot radius of him is Old Spice. It's burning my sinuses!

R. Avenal: I think you should join us.

D. Reynholm: What?

R. Avenal: It's very fitting, you becoming our fifth member of the undead.

D. Reynholm: Erm… I'm not sure I want to do that. Now that I know what's wrong with my computer-

R. Avenal: Unfortunately, I'm not giving you a choice. What do you three think?

_(Mr Trenneman, Mr Moss and Ms Barber seem to have a whispered conversation, which the device was unable to record clearly.)  
__  
_R. Trenneman: Do we still get some of the blood?

R. Avenal: Of course.

R. Trenneman: I wouldn't rule it out.

J. Barber: But do we really want to stay in a basement with Douglas for the rest of eternity?

M. Moss: It can't be much worse than staying in a basement for all eternity with Richmond. At least Douglas would put a bit of life into the place.

D. Reynholm: I still have no idea what's going on here.

R. Avenal: Ah, it's a long story, beginning with my ill-advised purchase of a Transylvanian vampire bat from eBay as a pet.

M. Moss: I only advised against it because the vampire bat is native to Central and South America.

R. Avenal: The trouble started when the bat arrived…

_(A very long pause follows, during which the only audible sounds appear to be Mr Reynholm fidgeting and coughing. The others do not appear to be breathing.)_

D. Reynholm: What is he looking at?

M. Moss: That's where the bat's hiding.

D. Reynholm: Does he do this often?

J. Barber: Four or five times in every story.

D. Reynholm: Is it a long story?

R. Trenneman: Quite long, but since he's the head vampire, we pretty much have to listen to it.

M. Moss: There are snacks if you… oh no, wait, that doesn't work for you.

R. Avenal: I'm not the head vampire.

R. Trenneman: _What?_

R. Avenal: Oh no, the bat's the head vampire.

J. Barber: Why didn't you tell us that earlier?

R. Avenal: You never asked. I thought you all knew.

R. Trenneman: We sat around here for ages thinking you were the head vampire and listening to you telling really boring stories for _two weeks_?

R. Avenal: How do you think I feel? I thought you were genuinely interested.

R. Trenneman: In the funny looks you got when you started wearing makeup in the office? You didn't even do impressions!

R. Avenal: I'm not very good at impressions. Well, if you don't care, I'll just go.

_(Someone, presumably Mr Avenal, can be heard to get up and stumble.)_

J. Barber: No, Richmond, come on, tell the story.

R. Avenal: What's the point of telling the story if no one wants to hear it?

J. Barber: If it'll make you feel better, we'll listen to the story. Douglas is curious.

D. Reynholm: I'm really not.

J. Barber: Yes he is.

R. Avenal: It's not a very interesting story. I bought a pet vampire bat that started going sort of crazy, then he locked me in my room with it-

R. Trenneman: I didn't know it was a vampire!

R. Avenal: -and it turned me into a vampire. Then I bit that one-

M. Moss: Hello!

R. Avenal: -he bit him-

R. Trenneman: To be honest, I was kind of relieved he turned out to be a vampire.

R. Avenal: -and he got the last one.

J. Barber: I didn't even notice a difference in them for four days. I thought they had the flu or something.

R. Avenal: So now we're all vampires.

J. Barber: And you're next, apparently.

D. Reynholm: Buuuut, I'm not sure I want to be a vampire.

R. Trenneman: No one wants to be a vampire; you just get on with it.

D. Reynholm: When I say I don't want to be a vampire, I mean…

_(A heavy impact strikes the device, which can be assumed to be Douglas bumping into a table or desk, followed by a scrabbling sound which knocks the device.)_

D. Reynholm: I've got a gun!

M. Moss: Is that a real gun?

D. Reynholm: Service revolver. It's seen action!

R. Trenneman: Don't be stupid, Douglas- you can't kill a vampire with a gun. Stake through the heart, burning or decapitation with a head stuffed full of garlic. Those are the rules. Otherwise, it wouldn't be any fun.

D. Reynholm: I don't care! I'm going to bloody well try!

_(Several hollow clicks can just about be heard.)_

D. Reynholm: Oh _god_!

_(There is a long period of silence.)_

M. Moss: That is the funniest thing I've seen since that man on fourth who stopped updating his virus protection and wondered where all his memory had gone.

_(The sound of frantic scrabbling of objects can be heard, mixed with grunting and the occasional quiet crash. According to the testimonies of those present, this was Mr Reynholm stuffing small miscellaneous objects into the barrel of the gun and firing them. Tests to determine whether or not this is actually possible have not yet been carried out.)_

J. Barber: Douglas, leave the Lego man alone. It won't do you any favours.

R. Avenal: You might as well make this easy. The outcome will still be the same.

D. Reynholm: I'm not taking chances!

_(Another projectile can be heard to fire, but this time is followed by just over a minute of pained squeaks and a strange flapping noise. This is followed by a period of silence and heavy breathing.)_

R. Trenneman: What the hell just happened?

M. Moss: It looks like Douglas just shot the bat with an abnormally sharp pencil.

R. Trenneman: Wow. What are the odds of that?

J. Barber: Must be a million to one.

M. Moss: It's two billion, eighteen million, three hundred and fourteen thousand, six hundred and ninety-two to one, surely. Judging by the accuracy of Douglas's previous shots.

J. Barber: Yes. Surely.

R. Trenneman: So does this mean we're not vampires any more?

R. Avenal: If the head vampire is dead…

M. Moss: I'm definitely not craving blood.

R. Avenal: No.

J. Barber: And I'm feeling slightly less of a compulsion to murder Douglas than I have been recently.

R. Trenneman: I am bloody hungry though.

J. Barber: Well, we haven't eaten in two weeks. If it wasn't for all that blood we drank, we'd probably be passing out and hallucinating by now.

D. Reynholm: I've got some deep fried profiteroles.

R. Trenneman: Y'know what, I'm not that hungry.

M. Moss: No one's that hungry.

R. Trenneman: Anyone want a takeaway?

D. Reynholm: You know, there's this fantastic place I discovered, run by a man from Edinburgh, that sells deep-fried-

J. Barber: Douglas, go away.

D. Reynholm: Oh. Okay. So it just needs plugging in, then?

R. Trenneman: What? Oh, right. Yeah. Anyone remember what we did with the phone?

R. Avenal: I think it's under that man from human resources.

J. Barber: We need to get rid of him. He's starting to smell. It's attracting flies.

D. Reynholm: Right. I'll be off then.

_(Footsteps can be heard ascending stairs. At the same time, the voices of the other four people become quieter. Mr Reynholm's footsteps are now slow and sluggish. After about five minutes, they speed up.)_

D. Reynholm: Hey, guess what, Maria-

Angela Roberts: My name is Angela.

D. Reynholm: I just killed the head vampire!

A. Roberts: What?

D. Reynholm: Do you feel like going for a late lunch with a real-life vampire-killer? I know this great place that sells deep-fried caviar.

A. Roberts: Are you having me on to record my reactions?

D. Reynholm: Hang on, what?

_(Sounds are heard indicating that the recording device is handled, presumably removed from Mr Reynholm's pocket.)_

D. Reynholm: Oh f-

End of recordings.


End file.
